


The Roads We Take

by Ellie_M_P



Category: Kung Fu: The Legend Continues, Silk Stalkings
Genre: Crossover, Drama, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-29
Updated: 2013-05-29
Packaged: 2017-12-13 08:54:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/822419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellie_M_P/pseuds/Ellie_M_P
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This fanfic story came to life after I saw the episode from SS 'Sins of the Mother'. The inside joke inspired me.<br/>The plot is simple: the story answers the obvious question of how on earth does Tom Ryan know Kwai Chang Caine. ;) ...With the due dose of drama and humour. </p><p>NOTE! Many haven't seen 'Silk Stalkings', but no worries. The story is designed so that you don't need to know anything about Tom Ryan as all important information is mentioned. In fact, it looks like I simply took the character and placed him in a setting of KFTLC as someone Caine meets during his wanderings. </p><p>Time setting is pre-series for both characters.<br/>The location is also neutral.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Enter the Grasshopper

**Author's Note:**

> > OK, so I've always considered myself to be the last person to write KFTLC/SS crossover. I find generally the idea of such crossovers kind of... odd (with all due respect to their authors, of course). 
> 
> And then I saw the episode 'Sins of the Mother'... (I finally watched the series only recently, by the way) I just couldn't resist the temptation. ^_^ And so this story came to life, and as you can see it's quite different from the 'classic' KF/SS crossover.
> 
> > The more observant will notice that all chapter titles are remakes of episode names from both series.

It must have been mid- or late October. In any case, the wind was getting chillier and the leaves covering the wet tree branches – sparser. On Saturday mornings traffic was never much of a problem, and in an area where civilisation was 20 miles away in any direction, even less so.

A lonely car was moving south. At that point the sun was not very high yet, and the thick fence of tall pine trees running on both sides of the road made it even more difficult for the weakened sun light to lick the cold asphalt. The clear blue sky was the only sign that this was going to be a sunny, if not particularly warm, day.

Literally in the middle of nowhere the car slowed down and pulled in the safety line. After a brief moment the door opened and the annoyed driver came out.

'Another thing not working in my life; so what else is new?’

The man, visibly in his early thirties, pulled a jacket from inside the car and angrily shut the door. He took a deep breath while looking both ways. It was nothing else but the road and evergreens, either way. He decided not to risk it by continuing to the unknown lying ahead, so he turned and started walking back in the direction he had come from.

*****

The hilly grounds provided for uneven and quite humpy road. By car it was all right, but walking it felt like you were climbing wall, not quite knowing what will pop up in front of you ten metres later. Not that something interesting was supposed to pop up, at least the walking lonely man hoped so. But considering the mess in his life, really, right now nothing could surprise him.

Said, done. Whoever or whatever is responsible for the course of our lives must have heard the man’s thoughts, because something  _did_  pop up, and it  _did_  surprise him.

He took a slight right turn just as he was taking another downhill on the road. Ahead he saw a group of men, it was four of them, and he was not too far away to distinguish the sight of three of them ganging up on a fourth one.

‘Just when I was getting bored,’ he murmured and hurried ahead.

He tried not to run but what he saw made him angry… no, it made him furious. The surrounded man was not young; he had definitely passed his mid-fifties. He looked like a traveller, certainly not a wealthy one. He wore a brimmed hat but one could see well silver-grey hair beneath. What could these bastards want from a lonely elderly man?

The silent witness was approaching. Completely by instinct his left hand had landed on his waist revealing a holstered gun. He was ready to use it in seconds if he had to; at that point of his career the movement had become his second nature, the gun felt almost like extension of his arm. And just when he was ready to shout he froze in one place and stared at the events occurring before his eyes.

‘Huh?!’ He gasped and his eyes probably doubled their size. Such sight was not to be seen every day.

Three seconds ago it seemed that a lonely, mature man was in a serious trouble, surrounded by three armed, vicious looking younger men. Apparently, as it turned out, it was the poor threesome that needed saving.

A very tall and skinny blond man pushed the lonely traveller with the back of his rifle. Out of the blue the traveller turned and grabbed the gun. He twisted it so sharp and fast that its owner never managed to let it go off his hands, so he made a turn in the air, landed heavily on the ground and stayed there. The other two pulled back frightened. The one who had his back to the approaching witness waved fist against the traveller; his hand, however, was quickly pared and a second later he staggered and fell down. Without turning the white-haired man made a back kick hitting the third attacker in the hip. Next thing he did was to snap his body and without even looking the back of his hand found the attacker’s neck. The man blinked twice and fell.

The whole thing happened so quickly that the approaching younger man took some time to assimilate it. When he saw the tall blond man getting back up, however, he decided it was about time to make his presence known.

‘Hey…’ He paced up. ‘Hey!’

The older man only watched with interest. He didn't try to pursue his bullies in any way. The three men came to pretty quickly but it was the sight of the armed young man that frightened them.

‘Come on… Let’s go…’

‘See ya, Chinaman.’

Supporting each other they limped across the road and disappeared behind the trees. The armed witness saw no purpose in chasing them. At least they left one of their guns and he picked it. He was more concerned and rather interested in the stranger that so patiently waited for him.

‘Are you OK?’

‘I am unharmed.’

The calm archaic speech and the even breathing bewildered even more the young man. The traveller didn't have the look of someone who had just fought alone against three attackers.

‘What did they want from you?’

‘I… was merely passing… and I saw them. I believe they were placing…traps?’

The young man nodded. ‘Poachers.’

He continued when he observed the stranger’s puzzled look.

‘These woods are natural reserve. Hunting here is completely forbidden; it’s illegal.’

‘I understand.’

The younger man checked the rifle in his hand; it was loaded and ready to use. He emptied it and flung the gun over his right shoulder. Then he took out an ID.

‘I thought you were in trouble... I wanted to help.’

‘Your concern does you honour.’

It felt like he had met a time traveller from the end of the previous century.

‘I… I’m a police officer, Detective Sgt Tom Ryan, Palm Beach PD.’

The older man shrugged.

‘I am… Caine.’

*******


	2. May I Camp with You

‘I guess you’re not from around here?...’

‘Is that so obvious?’

‘Well… you look like a traveller,’ said Tom slightly abashed. Talking to that stranger felt so effortless and in the meantime he found himself carefully selecting every word he said.

‘No, I am not from here. I am merely passing through.’

‘So am I, only that I’m driving…  _was_  driving. My car just died on me about half a mile down the road.’

The two men were walking together now, the younger with a gun on his shoulder, the older with a flute in his hand.

‘You… are from Palm Beach?’

‘I work and live there but my family is from Boston. You?’

‘I… am from nowhere.’

The answer came with a subtle sigh, as if the one who said it bore hundreds of kilos of weight on his back.

Tom used the chance to take a peek at his companion’s face. The evident Asiatic features appeared expressionless and stern, but it was the eyes that spoke more than thousand words. The young cop realised he didn't need psychology training to figure that this lonely traveller has been through a great deal of pain in his life.

‘I guess you’re also going nowhere?’

Caine smiled faintly. The young man was a fast learner.

‘Yes… and no.’

He looked at Tom and his smile broadened. The cop’s raised eye brow signified that his fast learning had hit a wall.

‘Generally,’ continued Caine, ‘I am not going anywhere... but right now I am… on my way North.’

Tom nodded. ‘North isn’t far… Well… we’re North right now… depending on where you look at it.’

Caine seemed amused by this subtle way of expressing curiosity.

‘There is a city… uhm… Sloanville?’

‘Oh, that’s still a long way. You should take a bus or something…’

‘Thank you, but I prefer to walk.’  
  
‘It will take you a lot of time…’ Tom was confused.  
  
‘I am… in no hurry. I hope to be there… for the Chinese New year?’  
  
‘Well, you’ve got time then. And, it’s a cool place, big city; it has one of the biggest Chinese communities in the country.’  
  
‘Then… I should be like home there.’  
  
Tom grinned. ‘So, you do have a goal, after all.’  
  
‘Not really. I hope… to meet with somebody there, but… I am not even certain he is in Sloanville. …I have heard only rumours…’

‘Hey, who better than a cop to find your guy?’

Caine stared at Tom.

‘I can help you… Well, if I get my hands on a computer, of course... I can contact with just about any cop in the country and they can find whoever you need. If your guy’s in Sloanville’s Chinatown, all I need to do is call the local police precinct and have them search for the person. If he’s not there you won’t need to go this far.’

Caine’s gratitude was evident. He stopped and put a hand on Tom’s shoulder.

‘I am deeply touched by your offer; you are an honourable man!’

Tom had never heard anyone talk to him like that. Praise, yes, he had that before, but somehow this man’s pure and naïve attitude made him blush.

‘Uhm… Thanks… It’s nothing, really…’

‘But, you do not need to do this for me. My travels have taken me… to many interesting places and met me with… extraordinary people. Who knows who I will meet in the small towns I will pass through.., or in the big city itself?...’

Caine shrugged and continued walking.

‘Besides… if I am supposed to meet somebody… Fate will take me to the right place… and in the right time. I do not need to force things.’

Tom smiled without saying anything. This man had such a simple attitude to life. The young detective wanted to know him better, spend more time with him. He could learn a lot from the enigmatic stranger, and especially at this stage of his life he needed answers, and he felt Caine could give them to him.

They kept walking.

‘You know… Of all things I’m so eager to ask you, there’s one that I’m dying to know.’

‘Then… ask.’ Caine winked. ‘Just… please, do not die.’

Tom laughed loud. ‘OK… Back there, with the men… What the hell was that?!’

Caine was puzzled. ‘What was  _what_?’ He had never liked half-made questions.

‘That… What you did… You don’t look a man who can fight like that.’

‘How does a man who can fight like that look like?’

Tom scratched his temple. ‘You always answer questions with questions?’

‘Only when the questions I am asked call for other questions.’

‘Hold on, hold on, I've made a career out of  _asking_  people stuff, you’re not going to lure me into a game of words.’

‘Is this an… interrogation?’ asked Caine with a hint of irony.

‘No…’ Tom felt like a fool. He took a deep breath. If Harry had heard him he would probably send him for a refresher’s course in Basic Interrogation.

‘I mean that… you look so… humble, non-aggressive. You don’t look like someone who can lace three men and not even sweat.’

‘Ah…’ Caine nodded. ‘Well, I… do not mean to look aggressive. And then, we Shaolin  _always_  look humble.’

‘Shao…. What?’

Caine smiled and shook head. It was obvious that he had had to answer that question once too often.

‘I am a Shaolin priest.’ Caine folded his right sleeve and revealed a burned scar of something that resembled an animal, a tiger perhaps. ‘I have sworn to help and protect others, and I use my skills  _only_  if nothing else helps.’

Tom closed his mouth when he realised he was in danger of swallowing some bug.

‘You’re a...  _priest_?!’

Caine nodded.

‘Like… you pray… and you hold sermons?’

Caine nodded again.

Tom stared ahead and remained silent for a while.

‘What’s your religion again?’

‘We are Buddhists,’ said Caine softly.

‘Right… And all Sho… Sha…’

‘Shaolin!’

'And all Shao-lin priests can fight like that?’

‘Yes, but  _only_  if necessary. We mean nobody harm.’

‘Do you teach?’ asked Tom and stopped for a moment.

‘Cause those kicks can be a life saviour for a cop.’

‘I… would be honoured. But… kung-fu takes a lot of time and discipline to master.’

‘Well… had to ask.’

They walked a bit further. Tom practically bombarded Caine with questions, which the priest answered with great patience. He seemed to enjoy talking about the religion and philosophy he had been brought up with.

Half an hour later Caine stopped and pointed towards a path that veered between the trees and into the woods.

‘I am… this far.’

‘You live here?’

‘There is a small shelter a bit further in. I… have been staying there since yesterday; I will be on my way on Monday.’

‘But how did you meet with our three friends back there?’

‘I went… on the other side of the road. There is a small clearing… with mushrooms growing; I went there… to collect some.’

‘What are you going to do with them? Tea… or dry them maybe?’

Caine smiled softly. ‘I believe the technical term is… a soup?’

Tom slapped his forehead. ‘Right.’ Then he got a more serious expression. ‘A soup, ha?’ He swallowed.

The priest read the hungry expression in his fellow traveller’s eyes.

‘Would you care to join me for lunch?’

Tom considered. The road seemed endless, and the gas station that appeared to be just ‘round the corner’ while he was with his car, was probably another two hours away.

‘Sure, why not.’

*****

Twenty minutes and hundred other questions later they arrived by what Tom considered one of the most breath taking sights he had ever seen. The forest continued along crescent-shaped ‘gulf’ which instead of water was full of trees and rocks. Tom approached the edge bravely. He giggled imagining Cassie running panicked in the opposite direction; she would have never dared come closer. But luckily he had no problem with heights so he enjoyed the spectacular view.

Right bellow there was a sea of white rocks. Only here and there some dark-green moss spots added colour, but other than that it was pure rock, granite probably. Further the granite sea dispersed and blended with bushes and small trees which eventually transformed into giant ever-greens mixed with birches, chestnuts and maples. Not all of the trees had lost their leaves yet so the forest bellow was basking in colours ranging from fiery red and deep orange to light- and dark-green. Much further were the blue tops of hills and mountains rising from the air, as a thick layer of humidity was hiding their giant bodies.

Tom was mesmerized. He inhaled deeply; the sweet aroma of wet pine filled his lungs. The crescent around him had pine trees growing almost to the edge itself, on both sides. Only the small clearing where he was standing was bare and covered with yellowish moss. Behind him, between the trees, was the small shelter Caine spoke of. It must have been hut or something of the kind at one point, but now only two wooden walls remained, and a half-roof, which must have been the floor of an eventual second level. To complete the shelter with two additional ‘walls’ someone had torn a tent and nailed its halves to the roof and then on the ground. It looked quite old but also strong enough. The young cop considered that with a sleeping bag it was probably not too cold inside either.

Caine had made fire and was cutting the mushrooms inside a small well-used pot.

‘Where did you get water from?’

‘There is a small lake further down.’

‘It’s wonderful,’ said Tom as his gaze went back to the amazing panorama. ‘It makes your heart want to sing, doesn’t it?’

Caine was pleasantly surprised. ‘It does indeed.’

The priest left the soup to boil and approached Tom, who in the meantime positioned himself not too far from the fire. He had placed the rifle beside him, almost oblivious to the fact that this was an item made to kill.

Caine sat beside his new friend and started playing his flute. Taken by the melody Tom started humming.

‘Do you sing?’

‘Me… oh, no... Well... A little...I don’t know. I can play; wish my guitar was here right now.’

‘Is it typical for a cop to be so… artistic?’

‘Do I look artistic to you?'

‘You play and sing… And… they say that… lefties are artistic souls.’ Caine smiled.

‘You noticed, ha?’ grinned Tom.

‘Yes,’ answered Caine very quietly and for a moment his gaze got lost over the endless sea of trees and mountains.

Tom sensed the subtle change but his common sense overpowered the curiosity.

‘I used to play in a band while in college.’

‘You have been in college?’

‘Yes… Uhm, many cops go straight to the Police Academy, but these are usually the hereditary ones, those who come from families of cops. Those of us who aren’t so certain what they want to do with their lives, go to college first.’

‘Why did you decide to become… a cop?’

Tom shrugged. ‘Good question.’ He chuckled. ‘Guess I love the feeling when we bust the bad guys; man, it feels good!’

Caine followed with great interest the changes Tom’s face went through as he spoke of his job. His eyes beamed with enthusiasm. This is the one common trait Caine had noticed with all the police officers he had met during his wanderings – they all really loved their job.

‘I guess I wanted my father to be proud of me.’

‘He is a cop, too?’

‘A fire fighter, he’ll be retiring soon. I suppose for me it was either this or cop.’ He grinned. ‘Or football…’

‘Football?’

‘Loved it!... But, sense of duty and honour prevailed and before I knew it I was in the Police Academy.’

‘Your parents must be worried sick.’

The young officer smiled lovingly. ‘Nah… My mum surely does, but she’s used to it. And my dad considered it almost… normal, you know, his son performing his duty.’

‘I am certain they both worry. I know I would…’

Tom looked at Caine again. He hoped that this mysterious man would share whatever plagued him but he still didn't dare ask.

‘Would you? It’s something you get used to…’

‘A parent… can never get used to his child living this close to danger at every moment… You should call them more often,’ reproached Caine.

‘But…’ Tom didn't feel like admitting that he failed call his parents often enough. He sighed.

‘Guess me living far away and in Palm Beach makes it look less dangerous.’

‘Why? Is police work not dangerous everywhere?’

‘Well, down at Palm Beach it’s usually all about money, insurance scams, more money… High profile stuff. It’s not like New York City... or Sloanville, for that matter. These are big cities; now, they are really dangerous for cops. Down in Florida it’s all about glamour and the dirt it hides.’

‘You make it sound less dangerous than it is… For your parents’ sake…’

Tom started getting used to Caine reading his mind. ‘Yeah,’ he nodded. ‘But I signed for it, right?’

‘You never wanted to be a… rock star?’ asked Caine playfully.

‘Uhm… not for real, no. Should I?’

‘Well, teenage boys usually entertain such ideas…’

Caine didn't end his sentence. Instead he was staring into the emptiness again.

‘One needs inspiration and talent to be a rock star. I may not have that much of a talent but at least I don’t lack inspiration… Didn’t... didn’t lack inspiration…’

‘What happened to your inspiration?’ Caine had ceased all attempts to play. His attention was entirely concentrated on the younger man.

Tom’s cheerful look was completely gone. He didn't care any more. What the hell, he may well open his heart to this complete stranger. After a few hours together, him he felt closer than many people he had known for years.

‘My inspiration? …Last month it divorced me…’

His eyes were wide opened; he was breathing heavily. It was clear he was still struggling to believe that his marriage was over.

‘I understand.’

‘What, you’ve been dumped before?’

‘I understand why you suffer so much.’

Tom looked at the priest in despair.

‘It is… inevitable, since you still… love her.’

‘How…’ The detective moved unnerved and was ready to get up. ‘What do you know about it?’ He raised his voice.

‘Your feelings are practically… emanating from you. She has hurt you… a lot… and yet, you still care a great deal about her.’

Tom struggled not to start crying.

‘She’s stubborn… and annoying… priggish, intolerant…’ He blinked few times. ‘…And smart… and beautiful… God, she’s so beautiful!... and…’ Tom bit his lips.‘…And… the most amazing woman I’ve ever known.’

Caine hugged the young man. ‘Does she not share your affection at all?’

‘She shares nothing with me,’ said Tom wryly. ‘Geez, we were fighting about the way food should be arranged in the fridge! I mean… what couple argues about that?’ Tom sensed he was talking too loud and stopped.

The priest decided to take a break and went to check the food.

‘Lunch is ready.’

It took Tom some effort to get up, partly because he had found a comfy spot, partly because he was cold. Grateful he received his plate; the food was aromatic and incredibly tasty.

‘That must be the most amazing mushroom soup I’ve ever tried! You should become a chef…’

‘I already did,’ answered the older man and tasted. ‘It needs more salt.’

They ate for a while in silence and Tom decided he had made himself ridiculous enough.

‘Anyway… I’m lucky she ever paid me attention at all. Moreover,’ grinned Tom, ‘I don’t get to see her creepy mother any more. Now, that’s a relief.’

Caine chuckled. ‘You… do not look like a man who has problems in… getting ladies’ attention…’

‘I don’t?’

‘You are…uhm… as they say… a good looking man.’

‘Just don’t say I look like a movie star.’

Caine was puzzled.

The cop chuckled and continued. ‘They tend to say I look like Wolf Gannet… He’s an actor… Never mind, he’s B-rate anyway.’

He laughed out loud. ‘I just lack the self-confidence. Don’t know… Women aren't exactly fighting for me…’

‘You are not what they call… a heartbreaker?’

‘No!’ Tom was surprised. ‘I’m usually the heartbroken… Nah, I’m romantic. You know, I can be monogamous… Hell, I was ready to commit to the same woman for life. I gave her my heart, my soul… she threw them in the sewer…’ He sighed.

‘I am sorry to hear that.’

‘Nah, don’t be. You see, where I live, cops aren’t exactly women’s first choice. Salary’s not appealing.’

‘Salary?’

‘You know, Palm Beach girls don’t sell themselves cheap. They stare at you for a while, you say you don’t run a multi-million business, and they ditch you.’

‘What? You look so… disappointed.’

‘I am really sorry that the world you live in is so… shallow.’

‘No worries, I’m used to it. It’s the place, not me, that’s what I like to say to myself.’

Tom pretended it didn't bother him at all. Caine listened to his ramblings with patience and understanding.

The cop went for second turn from the lovely soup.

‘Sorry about that.’

‘About what,’ asked Caine as he added some extra to his plate as well.

‘About my blabbering. That’s what Cassie… That’s my ex-wife… That’s what she hated about me, talking too much at times.’

‘You… are holding great pain in your heart. You need… to share. I am here to listen.’ Caine smiled.

Of course, that was what priests did, right, listened.

‘And what about you? Who listens to you?’ Tom had to try. The least he could do was try…

Suddenly the older man got tense. He wasn't used to talking about his pain, mainly because he had no one to talk to; yet, he saw that the young detective had sensed his sorrow, and perhaps his loneliness.

‘I… do not need somebody to listen to me. Helping other helps me as well.’

Having said that the priest left his plate and got up. Tom grinned. At last the stranger showed some hint of weakness, such as avoiding from your problems. So, he was a human after all.

Before entering the shelter he looked at Tom. ‘As long as there are such feelings… you have hope. Future… brings hope. Do not forget that.’

A minute later Caine came out of the shelter with his hat on and his satchel back on his shoulder.

‘I noticed that… despite your pain you are not… angry.’

‘Of course I’m angry!’ Tom got up. ‘I just don’t show it. Hot-headed cops get into tons of trouble, so I try to keep my temper in check. …Where are we going?’

‘That is good for you, you are on the right path,’ said Caine and gently slapped Tom’s chin. ‘I need to go… and collect some herbs.’

The priest explored the cop with unconcealed bewilderment. ‘You wish to come with me?’

The detective had planned to be back South by Sunday afternoon but he was definitely not looking forward to it. Life of escapism seemed more and more appealing to him.

‘I’ll tag along…. That’s, if you don’t mind.’

Caine fixed his brimmed hat. ‘I would be honoured.’

*******


	3. Into the Woods

‘Is the gun necessary?’ asked Caine slightly displeased.

They walked North, not too far from the edge. Tom had the rifle back on his shoulder, and he even loaded it. Upon hearing the remark the young man nested the weapon more comfortably on his shoulder, slightly unnerved.

‘I couldn’t leave it there; somebody might find it.’

‘We are… alone,’ said Caine and made a gesture in the air pointing at their surroundings.

‘Call it cop instinct. It’s an unknown ground.’

‘It makes you feel safe?’ asked the priest and briefly turned towards his young friend.

‘Protected. I may never need it but I feel better when it’s with me.’

Caine kneeled above a small patch of dark-purple flowers.

‘Does a cop always carry a gun?’

‘Heh, not at home,’ answered Tom and curiously leaned over Caine’s shoulder trying to follow whatever was that he did. ‘And sometimes I can’t have it when I work, like when I go undercover, for instance.’

The priest got up and stared for a while.

‘Under… cover?’

Tom couldn't help but laugh. This man was apparently so educated and wise, yet he looked like someone who had lived in a different time frame.

‘That’s… uhm… Well, we pretend we’re somebody else and… go undercover.’

‘You go… under a cover?’

Tom giggled. ‘It’s a figure of speech. One way of doing is to pose as a victim and hope to lure the criminal into a trap. Or, and that’s when we may need our guns, we blend with the bad guys themselves and hope to collect evidence or simply bust them from the inside.’

‘That sounds very dangerous.’  
‘It can be.’

Tom was playing with some flower until Caine took the plant from his hands with a scornful look and carefully put it in his pouch.

‘But if we’ve got the proper back up, everything goes well.’

‘You have been often… undercover?’

‘Yes, pretty often. It can be fun.’

Caine smiled and continued ahead. He was mumbling quietly, much to Tom’s amusement.

‘Under… cover…’ He made a gesture with his hand, imitating plunging under an invisible surface. ‘Under… cover.’ He turned. ‘I will try to remember that.’

The detective shook head and grinned. He liked his new friend more and more.

Suddenly the older man stopped. The mood of their duo changed so abruptly that it made Tom’s skin go all goose-flesh.

‘What’s wrong,’ he whispered. Experience and instincts blended and the cop was now standing with hand firmly locked on his gun, ready to use it any moment.

Caine didn't answer immediately. He made a few steps towards the younger man and very carefully moved few leaves off the ground. Only then did Tom see the spikes of a trap laid there, centimetres away from his foot.

The detective took a deep breath but quickly found his mouth sealed by Caine’s palm.

‘The harmony of the forest has been disturbed,’ whispered the Shaolin.

Tom breathed out through the nose and listened. His hand remained on the holstered gun. The priest walked behind him and made him a sign to follow. However the young man decided to take a cut and made a step forward. As a consequence he nearly threw himself into a hollow he hadn't seen. Only Caine’s surprisingly strong grip prevented him from breaking his limbs, or even worse.

‘Th-thank you!’

The blending colours of orange ground and orange leaves made it very difficult to notice the steep cascade. The cop wiped the sweat off his forehead. He was a bit shaken but got back to his feet quickly enough to hear the approaching engine.

He turned and saw Caine standing in the middle of the tiny path, looking in direction of the street. Tom came closer and saw the truck, with all three poachers in it.

Without looking at Tom, Caine shouted at him, ‘Stay there!’ but the cop had no intention in leaving his friend get himself killed. Still unaware of Caine’s skill the young detective ran towards him and pushed him off the path of the truck seconds before the machine ran over the same place.

The two men fell heavily. Tom was on top of Caine and that prevented the priest from coming back to his feet fast enough. Still slightly dizzy Tom felt a hand pulling his collar and he turned only to feel a heavy punch in his face. Free from the weight Caine stood on one leg and kicked the tall blond in the knee. The poacher screamed with pain and immediately released the cop. He fell in front of Tom and the officer, though not completely aware of what was going on, instinctively grabbed the criminal’s shoulders and thrust him back down, knocking him unconscious.

With gun out if its holster, Tom leaned on the nearby tree and took few seconds to come to his senses. He was annoyed at himself for losing the rifle when he almost fell into the deep hollow. When he looked, the cop saw Caine and the other two poachers. Apparently the beating they took earlier that day hadn't given them a lesson. The truck was stopped few steps away from him, the men were in front of it.

One of the poachers, a dark-haired chubby guy, not older than twenty, pulled a gun out. Quickly Caine kicked it out of his hand, spun in one leg, and his other leg found the man’s face. Tom was just watching, admiring Caine’s flawless moves. He was ready to provide back-up any time, but the older man simply didn't need it.

The second guy, slightly older and a bit taller, pulled a knife which he held against the Shaolin with trembling hand. Caine looked at him the way a strict teacher looks at a mischievous student and stretched and took the knife, simple as that. He showed it off and then threw it in behind him. The man tried to run away, but the priest grabbed him and seemingly gently pressed a spot on the poacher’s shoulder, right in the base of the neck. Whatever he did it was enough to send the man to sleep.

Approximately at the same time Tom felt something was wrong. The truck’s engine suddenly started and the young detective saw the silhouette of a fourth man inside. There was no time for hesitation. Tom jumped in the back of the truck just as the machine started moving. He only had time to shout at Caine to watch out before he lost his balance and disappeared off sight.

Caine was squatting by the man he had just knocked out when he heard the warning. Without turning to see what was happening he jumped up in the air. He jumped so high and so light as if the force of gravity meant nothing to him. About two metres off the ground was a thick branch which the priest grabbed and passively observed how the car drove bellow him and through the legs of the younger man he knocked out first. Caine’s face agonised with regret when he heard the sound of cracking bones. From the branch he also saw Tom’s faltering figure slowly making its way to the driver’s cabin. Next thing the priest saw was how the car took a sharp and apparently unplanned turn and uncontrolled ran down the hollow.

‘No!’

Caine jumped down and ran after the truck. He heard a shot. From the top of the hollow he saw the truck moving quickly ahead. Another shot echoed in the quiet forest.

The priest ran down the slope. The truck was off his sight but he knew where it was headed. Seconds later he heard a splash.

The machine had ended in a small lake. The engine was running, so was the fuel. No further sound was coming from the truck. Caine approached with caution. The machine was into the water at about 80o, the cabin was completely covered. The priest’s sharp instincts felt the imminent danger; without thinking he jumped.

His body took the shock from the freezing water like it was nothing. He saw the cabin half-filled with water. The driver was unconscious and from bellow him he saw a hand…

There was no time.

Caine tried to open the door but it was impossible… to an average human at least. All a Shaolin priest had to do was concentrate. He brought his hands close to the cabin and few bubbles were the only sign that he had succeeded. Then he grabbed the door and removed it from the frame like it was made of paper.

At once he checked the pulse of the driver, regardless of the deep red colour of the water inside, and since he found none all he did was to push the body so he could drag Tom out of there. The detective was unconscious and Caine had to act fast. He swam away from the truck; his aim was to find dry land as far from the machine as possible. He was just placing Tom’s cold body on the sand when the truck burst into flames and a second later it disappeared under a loud explosion.

Caine leaned over Tom to protect him from any debris and paid no attention to the little metallic bits that found his back and stuck in it like the teeth of little snakes. The priest’s primal concern now was to make Tom breathe again. He breathed into his mouth and then started pressing his chest. He breathed in again, then pressed. After few attempts he thought the sound of Tom coughing was one of the best things he ever heard. He turned the young man to his side allowing him to spit out the water he had swallowed and looked at him softly.

‘Welcome back,’ said Caine and caressed Tom’s chest.

‘Hello, squire!’ Tom attempted to smile. ‘Am I dead?’

‘Not if I can help it,’ was the priest’s firm reply. Then he lifted on his back the 1,90-tall man like he weighed nothing, and steadily started advancing up the hill.

*******


	4. Fever

Back on the road Caine left his friend by a tree. Tom was moaning quietly.

‘Shh, conserve your strength.’

‘Y… don’ … ca… me…’

Tom held his side and felt numb pain coming from his hip. His vision was blurred but all the same, he managed to follow Caine’s quick moves. The Shaolin had moved the dark haired man’s dead body to the side. The blond and the older one he leaned on a tree and tied their hands using Tom’s handcuffs and some rope the origin of which the cop didn't know.

The older man came back to Tom and to his questioning look he replied, ‘I will be back for them.’

But Tom didn't reply. He had wrapped his arms around his body and the only sound coming from him belonged to his cracking teeth.

‘You are freezing!’

Caine was worried. He tried to lift Tom again but a hand pushed him.

‘…walk…’

The older man didn't expect that so much physical strength was left in Tom. He helped him get up and supported him with one hand. With the other he caressed his face and held him close. The detective smiled exhausted.

‘ ’m no’ tha’ powerle…’

As obligation bound him, Caine respected Tom’s wish. He supported the injured man all the way back to the shelter. Even if few times he practically had to lift him to ease his moves, he didn't attempt to carry him.

Inside the shelter the priest took Tom’s clothes off and tuck him inside his sleeping bag. He didn't care of his own dripping garments; Tom was more important now. With concern he noticed the cop’s face growing paler.

First thing to do was to clear his wound. The bullet had passed through the body, close to the bone. He stopped the bleeding and went to prepare few mixtures. He needed one for the fever and one to prevent the blood from contaminating.

Then Caine made fire, something that wasn't far from bonfire, actually. He found five big, flat stones and placed them by the heat. In the meantime he brought out Tom’s clothes and left them to get dry. He took his own shirt off and without noticing the chill of the dawning day he started mixing his herbs.

Half hour later Caine brought inside the stones he had placed by the fire earlier. He spread them around Tom and poured water on two of them. All five stones were hot enough to cook on them. Upon contact with the heated surface the cold water turned into steam and filled the shelter. Soon it became pleasantly warm inside.

Caine checked on Tom; the detective was feverish. He gave him tea and then applied some mixture on his wound. The tea had quick effect, and Tom was asleep again. Caine used the opportunity and left. His clothes were still wet since he dried Tom’s first. He had a spare pair of trousers which he put on but he didn't have a shirt. So he borrowed Tom’s almost dry jacket and left for the place of the attack.

By the trees he found the two men. They were scared and were more than happy to see him. It was almost dark now. Caine had a lantern with him.

‘God, are we glad to see you,’ said the tall blond. ‘My knee…’

‘Your knee will be fine,’ answered Caine with flat, cold voice. He had bread with him, as well as water. He fed the two men without even considering to untie them.

The priest made fire right on the path. He spread stones and wet leaves around it making sure no accident would occur. The two prisoners did not object.

‘Is J-johnny dead?’ asked the older guy.

‘Your two friends are both dead,’ replied Caine. ‘One of them was run over by the man in the truck.’

‘B-billy…’ stammered the blond with trembling voice.

‘The remainings of the truck are in the lake,’ added Caine. At last he looked at the poachers. His look was grave and blaming. It was their fault for what had happened. The usually benevolent priest wasn't in the mood to comfort anybody now.

Another dead, more meaningless loss. He had no intention to speak or console anybody. Not now. Not today.

The shelter was equipped with a couple of blankets. They were both dirty and smelling of urine but thick enough to save the men from hypothermia. Caine covered them and left. He took the lantern with him and extinguished the flame. It was only needed to start fire with it; a Shaolin didn't need source of light to find his way into darkness.

At least not this kind of darkness, thought Caine.

*****

Back in the shelter things weren't getting any better; Tom was shivering again.

‘C-col’…’

Caine lit the lantern and placed it inside, for Tom’s sake. Then he took the jacket off and got back to work. He threw more wood into the fire, brought the newly heated stones inside, spilled some water on couple of them and finally set to make more tea. The younger man’s wound was all right but he had been pretty chilled.

The priest considered. He took Tom’s trousers which were now fully dry and put them back on him. He put then his socks and then added a second pair on top – his own. It was like he covered Tom with ice – the cop started trembling more vigorously. Caine’s face wrinkled with worry. He dearly wished he could give this young man from his own strength but that wasn't possible since he was not his…

Caine frowned. He barely waited for the tea to boil. He poured of the aromatic liquid in a deep cup and sat by Tom’s side. The patient was delirious. Whatever he was mumbling was incomprehensible and Caine didn't care either way. He sat behind Tom and pulled him into a tight hug. All this time he had been walking around with nothing on top and yet his body was warm and healthy. At least this he could share.

Sensing the warmth of his saviour’s body Tom’s shivering somehow eased. He kept trembling, however, and Caine started massaging his arms, then he pressed few spots on the chest and palms.

At last the priest felt Tom’s body temperature rising. The sick man wasn't trembling so strong now so Caine stretched with Tom still in his arms and grabbed the tea.

‘Tom? Tom, can you hear me?’

‘Mmm…’

The voice was coming from very far away but Tom reacted. Gently Caine leaned the dark-blond head on his arm and slowly poured of the tea in his mouth.

‘You have to drink this. Slowly, slowly…’

Some of the tea spilled but patiently the man only wiped it with few experienced moves and went on. The whole procedure took long time due to Tom’s exhaustion and semi-conscious state. The sips were small, and it took ages to swallow. But to Caine it didn't matter. He was relieved to sense Tom’s body temperature getting back to normal when he hadn't drunk even half of the cup. More tea spilled, Caine wiped it again. Now Tom started sweating but Caine wiped his forehead, too, and kept giving him of the healing potion.

This whole situation felt terrifyingly familiar. Caine stopped to wipe again the pale face in his arms and went on with the tea. This helpless young man depended on him entirely. It was like… Caine gulped. It felt like caring for a little child… The priest blinked few times and swallowed through the ball in his throat. Then he continued with the tea until the last drop had found its way down Tom’s throat and into his body.

Convinced that the worst was over, Caine tenderly put Tom back down in the sleeping bag. With great care he put on the young man his top but left the shirt out. Then he closed the sleeping bag and brought a couple of the warmed stones closer. The pale face had finally relaxed. Caine wiped more of the sweat and then took a minute to look at the man whose life he had probably saved.

He was so young. What, late twenties, early thirties? The whole life was ahead of him. So much more to come when you are young… Caine caressed him. The short hair was soft and wet. Now that his new friend was asleep the stern priest could let emotions run free. How bravely this police officer had acted. It might have been almost by instinct, what he did… How he shouted at Caine, how he jumped inside the moving car… It was only for the better that his parents didn't know the true risks their son lived with. It would be unbearable, Caine thought, to send your child every day at work not being entirely certain if you'd see him again. Ignorance is a blessing indeed! How can his parents even sleep at night? Because they didn't know… If it was him, he would probably go half-mad with worry...

The priest smiled with an evident sadness and caressed the pale cheek with the back of his fingers. He had met so many cops during his wanderings. Some of them were good, honest men; a few were corrupt and poisoned with anger and bitterness. Death and danger walked side by side with these brave men and women. He objected towards the weapons Tom had but he was well aware that in a cop’s world they were a necessity.

Caine checked the sleeping man’s pulse, it was even and strong; he was going to pull through. The priest was proud that at least this cop had managed  _not_  to use his gun, for most of the time. Was it Tom’s calm nature… or Caine’s influence? Or both? In any case the older man was relieved. He had seen so many people die, a few of them wearing the badge. But this one was going to live. No, he would not…. He could not allow another death. He couldn't allow another young life to be wasted, to have another father grieving over a beloved son…

Sickness rising in his stomach made Caine jump to his feet and go out. The cold night air engulfed him and few times he inhaled deeply. What was happening to him? He had mastered the control over his emotions to such perfection, and now he found himself so close… to the edge…

There was nothing but darkness ahead and bellow the lonely man. He shook head and tried to get a grip. The fire needed to be taken care of, anyway. He added more wood and thought he had to go collect more branches to get dry, he also needed to check on the prisoners.

Caine was restless. The whole thing took him less than two hours. The two men were holding all right, the fire and the blankets were keeping them warm enough. There were more dried branches than the priest thought there would be, and just before midnight he had everything settled. He managed remarkably well without light but deep down he was grateful for the bright full moon. One reason he loved it here, far from civilisation, was that he could marvel the night sky in all its glory, completely undisturbed by smog and light pollution.

A part of the priest wanted to sleep straight through the next twenty-four hours. But he couldn't afford that, somebody needed him. For the first time… in so many, agonising years… somebody needed him. He had forgotten how that felt, the fulfilment, the warmth, the nurturing love.

Outside the shelter Caine looked at the sky. When he was little, his father would sit beside him and tell him legends about the constellations. Most of them were from the Greek Mythology but he loved them all the same. And he memorised them well enough to be able to re-tell them later…

Caine shook head again and went inside. The position of the moon signified it was midnight. Sunday had arrived. His own clothes finally on, he carefully folded Tom’s by his side so that the young detective could have his shirt and jacked back the next day. Caine could retrieve his socks back, too. His patient was warm enough and all he needed now was rest and sleep.

The tired Shaolin sat by the sleeping man. It wasn't physical exhaustion he felt, it was his soul that was tired. Every year it was getting heavier; he didn't know how long he would last. Who said that time healed all wounds? Well, he did, to the many people he had helped.

A lie!

Time heals nothing. The pain is still there, still unbearable.

Should he sleep? No, he had to be awake. Perhaps meditation? Whatever it was, he had to figure it out quickly. It was well into Sunday now and he had never expected that he would spend it taking care of somebody. He checked on Tom again, the young man was well. Every year Caine would seek refuge from civilisation, making sure that he would be undisturbed by anybody on  _that_  particular day. And this year it was different. At least he helped somebody. Now all he needed was to make it through the next already about twenty-three hours. If he managed that, it would be a whole 364 days until the next one…

And many things can happen in 364 days.

*******


	5. Edge Experience

‘Peter!’

Tom moved. He moaned and wiped his eyes, the dizziness was still not gone.

‘Peter… No!’

The cop opened eyes and looked alert. It was night and through the half-open tent he distinguished dying fire steaming outside the shelter. Caine was sitting next to him asleep.

Tom tried to get up but the heavy pain in his left side was stronger than him. He looked at the older man, who was leaned on his duffel bag, all wet and apparently having a nightmare.

‘No!..’ He was waving hand as if he was seeking for someone in the dark. ‘Peter?’

Tom didn't know what to do. He wanted to wake up Caine but all he managed was to stretch a hand.

‘Caine? Hey, Caine, wake up…’

‘Peter?…’

‘Hey,  _I_ ’m here…’

As he said that he tried to touch Caine again but instead his hand found Caine’s, and the priest grabbed it so tight that the bones cracked.

‘Peter…’

The priest relaxed. Tom was slightly shocked with what just happened but didn't try to pull his hand back. During the last hours, perhaps, he had witnessed things science deemed as impossible. He was wondering what kind of superhuman Fate had met him with, but now he realised Caine was just a man, like everybody else.

Tom thought the priest had probably saved his life and relaxed. He looked with pain and guilt at the sleeping man who was still holding his hand very tight. Then he closed eyes and tried to get back to sleep. At least now he knew that the deep sadness in the silver-haired man’s eyes had a name. The rest didn't take rocket scientist to figure. Tom only wished there was something he could do.

*****

It was the loud chirping, not the sobs that woke Tom. A handful of birds wouldn't migrate south for the winter, and they all had decided to move next to the shelter. Tom blinked and looked around. It was still fairly dark but fiery orange sunbeams were already crawling up the wall of the shelter. The watch on his wrist had stopped as soon as he plunged into the lake but the cop reckoned it must have been around 6 am, the latest. Caine wasn't by his side. Still feeling heavy Tom tried to move and only then he realised there was another sound in the air other than the annoying bird choir. With effort he lifted his upper body and looked outside.

The tent was still slightly lifted and fresh air had filled the shelter. The fire was out, and the fireplace was steaming. Within the steam was Caine’s shaking silhouette. Tom focused his eyes. The older man was on his knees; his head was bent so low that it was almost invisible from where the younger man was. But the shoulders were visible and they were shaking. Caine was crying.

Tom ignored the chirping and distinguished the sobs; the priest was crying loud, with all his voice and all his heart. Tom remembered the events from the past night and quickly connected them with the sad picture in front of him. He got up a bit higher and leaned on his palms. What could he do? Outside was one ruined man. Nothing was left of the ridiculously strong, self-possessed and wise Shaolin that could hit like a steam hammer. The man outside had his hands buried in the earth, his torso powerlessly leaning on them. He was crying so desperately that Tom simply wanted to go and hug him.

The injured detective tried to move but sharp pain ran through his body. Shocked he collapsed on the sleeping bag and bit the edge of the cloth to prevent himself from screaming aloud. He touched his wound and felt it was wet; he was bleeding again. Tom didn't want to interrupt Caine but he needed help. He got drowsy again and looked outside. The Shaolin priest was now standing and mumbled something, then he threw a handful of dirt into the open space before him. Tom stretched hand and whispered ‘Caine’ before losing conscience again.

Caine heard the noise. Quickly he wiped his face and cleaned his hands; his young friend needed him. He went inside only to find Tom sweating again. Caine checked the wound and sighed. It was bleeding, though not as hard as the day before. He sensed the pain of the young man’s body and knew this was the reason he was unwell. The wound wasn't infected.

The priest brought herbs, a different mixture this time, and changed the bandage. He applied them and in less than a minute the bleeding stopped. Something like that had been expected so he had the mixture ready from before. Now Tom was half-awake, and he was moving in the sleeping bag. Caine caressed his forehead and tried to make him be still. The pressure the priest applied on Tom’s head was enough, and the detective relaxed and fell asleep again. The older man smiled and lovingly stroked the sleeping face, then the chest.

In a few seconds he wiggled and withdrew from his little trance. He expected that with injured Tom Ryan in his care on  _that_  day his paternal instincts would be particularly strong. But he couldn't allow such weakness. Caine fixed the sleeping bag, making sure his patient was comfortably warm and got up.

It was time to start new fire and make breakfast. He had already checked on the prisoners, and he didn't plan to go back there before noon. At present there was much to be done. He had to make tea, and the five stones needed heating again. He was going to warm some bread and fry mushroom. Some roots and chestnuts were going to complete the morning meal.

*****

Tom woke up surrounded by darkness. Had he slept through the whole day? As soon his eyes got used to the dimly lit shelter he distinguished the light coming through the edges and the small hole in the tent. The annoying chirping of the winged ones was another confirmation that it was still daylight. The detective felt hungry. Actually he was starving. Slowly he got up and found the pile with his shirt and jacket. He remembered he was in the water but he didn't remember ever drying his clothes off, perhaps his new friend did it. The young man felt his cheeks warm with embarrassment at the thought that Caine had undressed him.

Anyway, he managed to put the shirt on, though the buttoning part was kind of a challenge. Of course not as much as getting back to his feet. The darkness around made Tom nervous but the fact that he didn't know where Caine was worried him more. The older man was evidently not in a good state of mind, and the experienced cop had promised himself to keep an eye on him.

Finally ready, Tom limped towards the exit, grateful that the place was so narrow, he could lean on the wall easily without trampling Caine’s sleeping bag. At last, after what seemed like an eternity, Tom made it to the tent. He moved it away and was immediately blinded by the sun which sent its beams straight in his eyes. So it was not that late after all; as a matter of fact is was still pretty early.

Smell of cooked food hit Tom’s nose and teased his empty stomach. He rubbed his eyes and blissful thought of good breakfast filled his imagination. When he opened his eyes, however, the idea of food couldn't seem more distant.

*****

Caine was there… for now. This time he wasn't crying, he was gravely silent. The priest was only staring at the panorama in front of him though Tom could bet he was probably not looking at it at all. What worried… or frankly what terrified the cop was where Caine was. The clearing where they were was anyway close to the edge of the rock, at least not too far. The place  _where_  Caine was standing right now, however,  _was_  the edge.

Without turning Caine spoke. ‘Your wound will start bleeding again.’

‘My wound’s fine,’ answered Tom with flat voice.

He pressed his left side firmly and made a step. Caine didn't turn. Tom made few more steps until he could see the older man’s profile. He was right, Caine was looking through the view in front; his gaze was blank. The cop inspected the position his friend had taken. It was a small round rock bumping out of the bigger one. It was the absolutely furthermost point one could find before plunging into the abyss bellow. The rock looked like a nose stuck on a giant grey face, only it was a very unstable one. Tom leaned slightly, and with unconcealed worry he noticed that the bump wasn't an extension of the rock, it was no more than two metres at its thickest and it had nothing to support it.

‘Do not worry, I do not intend to jump,’ said Caine with frighteningly cold voice.

Tom came closer.

‘Glad to hear it.’

Caine’s face was steel pale. His lips were bloodless, opposite to the eyes which were red to a point of inflammation.

‘Feeling better?’ asked the healer.

‘Much so, thank you.’ Tom swallowed. ‘You?’

Caine moved head backwards in a half-nod but his gaze was still somewhere above the mountains.

‘Do you not see that I need to be alone?’

‘There’s no way I’m leaving you alone.’

‘I said I will not jump.’

‘I trust you. But you shouldn’t be alone, anyway.’

‘Have you not seen enough tragedies in your life already?’

‘I’ve seen enough to fill two lifetimes, so what? I’m not leaving you, Caine, no way.’

Tom didn't speak further. He fixated his gaze on Caine, waiting. The other man’s deep sigh was the only signal that he intended to speak.

‘At this time of the year… I always seek refuge… from other people. Every other day is… liveable. I somehow manage… to make it, from day to day.’

Caine closed his eyes.

‘From year to year… I lived this way for fifteen years.’ He sighed and opened eyes again. ‘But it is getting harder every year. I do not…’

The priest paused and looked at Tom. No words could describe what the cop saw in the dark eyes that stared at him. They were wide open, madly open. They looked lifeless and yet their doubled size resembled someone who had just seen something shocking. Their redness only made them look wilder.

Caine turned his gaze back to the panorama.

‘Do you still love your wife, Tom?’

‘My ex…’

Caine waved his hands. ‘To the Universe she will  _always_  be your wife.’

Tom sighed and nodded. ‘Yes, I love her… Always will.’

Caine almost roared. ‘Then fight for her! Do never give up on that love and fight for it!’

His hands were in tight fists. ‘As long as she lives, you have hope. Fight! …And never give up! Because after that… there is nothing.’

Tom Ryan had met Caine 24 hours ago and already knew that such behaviour was out-of-the-ordinary for the Shaolin priest. It was scary but also somehow inspiring. He smiled.

‘I will.’

Caine held still for a minute, then went on.

‘Can you do something for me?’

‘Anything!’

‘When you leave here, go and call your parents. Tell them how much you love them. They worry about you.’

‘You know that, too?’ smiled Tom. He was becoming accustomed to Caine’s sagacity.

‘I know…’ A very light smile appeared on his face. ‘I was a father once, too.’

Tom bit lips. A wife  _and_  a son? Oh, no…

‘Was his name Peter?’

Caine turned abruptly. Finally something managed to surprise the priest.

‘I have light sleep,’ said Tom calmly. ‘And you have heavy sleep and loud voice…’

The apothecary almost gasped.

‘I guess you were having a nightmare… You were calling for Peter.’

Silence reigned for a while. The birds were chirping, the wind whistled. Caine’s cry came out of the blue.

‘He was just an innocent child!'

‘He knew nothing of the world. He had done nobody wrong!’ A tear ran down his dry skin.

Tom was finding it hard to suppress his own compassion. All these years he had seen so many parents bereft with grief, so much death… But his job was to bust the bad guys. There was no bad guy to chase this time, only a victim. And Tom hadn't the slightest idea where to take it from here.

The cop looked down with growing concern. It must have been more than twenty metres deep. His hair went up when few pebbles fell from the top. Not good. Tom had to figure out a way to move Caine out of there, quick. He came one step closer.

The priest’s face was writhing with agony; he remained oblivious to the imminent danger.

‘Was it…’ Tom’s voice drowned. He gulped and tried to hold on. At this point he could practically feel Caine’s pain like it was his own.

‘Was it today that your son… When he…’

Caine shook head negatively.

‘Today… my son would have been 27 years old.’

‘God,’ whispered Tom and bent head.

‘Yes.’ Caine had heard. Then he continued.

‘Every day is an agony, an… unfathomable pain. But of them all  _this_  day is the worst.’

He turned towards the numb detective. ‘You saw me earlier this morning, did you not?’

Tom nodded.

Caine crossed arms in front of his body.

‘One such sunrise… 27 years ago… I had welcomed with my new-born son in my arms.’

Tom held his eyes tightly, surprised by his own pressing tears. Not very manly of him…

The sound of few more pebbles sliding down the rock brought him back to the urgency of his reality.

‘Shouldn’t we…’ He held hands towards Caine but didn't dare approach more.

‘Of all days,’ continued the priest, ‘today is the worst. I seek… refuge in secluded places… and I try… I try to find the meaning…’

He waved hand like a conductor.

‘The reason… to go on. My heart died together with my sone fifteen years ago. Yet I can never… do… this.’

He pointed at the abyss below.

‘But only today I… struggle to find the reason not to do it.’ He inhaled. ‘Only today.’

‘Remember what you told me yesterday? That future brings hope? This is why you should never do it, because of the future. Dead people have no hope, and no future. You have both.’

Caine was visibly impressed. ‘Not bad…’ He moved a little and one bigger stone fell.

Tom’s alertness set a red light on fire. Everything happened very quickly. After the small stone a bigger piece fell, a loud noise echoed in the crescent. Caine looked down.

‘No!’ shouted Tom and jumped. The peaking rock was on its way to the bottom of the abyss when the cop desperately jumped with one hand stretching towards Caine. They landed centimetres away from the edge, Caine’s legs were practically outside. Energetically Tom kicked and pulled the older man safe and away from the edge.

For a moment Caine was lying on the ground, visibly shaken. He looked like someone who had just woken from a nightmare. His wide opened eyes belonged to somebody who was only now realising where he was. It was Tom’s moan of pain that sobered him.

Caine jumped to his feet worried. Tom was writhing on the ground, his wound was bleeding again.

‘Shh, hold still.’

The healer came on his left side and took a look. The blood wasn't that much but the pain surely was. Caine ran somewhere and came back with his pouch.

‘There, put this under your tongue.’ Obediently Tom followed the instructions and he could swear that before counting to twenty the pain receded.

Caine lifted the top and the shirt and changed the bandage. Every once in a while he would look at Tom smiling and he would wipe the sweat off his face. The young man was surprised and immensely relieved to see life sipping back into his saviour’s eyes. The Shaolin priest was beginning to look just like before, and all that had occurred during the last hours now seemed more like a dream.

*******


	6. Sunday by the Fire with Tom

When the bandage was ready Caine pulled Tom to a nearby tree and let him lean on the duffel bag. Then he came back and covered him with his own coat; temperature obviously meant nothing the priest.

‘How are you feeling?’

Tom grinned. ‘The question, my friend, is how are  _you_  feeling?’

Caine sat beside his young companion. ‘I will be all right,’ he said and winked at Tom. ‘You saved my life…’

‘Only after  _you_  saved mine,’ added Tom and smiled. He held Caine’s shoulder and patted him. ‘I’m glad to see you’re better.’

‘I believe… the worst is over.’

The priest went to check the fire and came back with food and tea. Tom’s eyes beamed with joy when he saw his meal. Caine left him eat and only observed in silence how the young man devoured his breakfast.

He looked around him, then back at Tom, and remembered how almost constantly he was seeking the spirit of his dead son in every child he met. He had lost a boy and never stopped searching for that boy. But the look of this strong, young man reminded him that today his son would have been an adult already. How would he look? Would he be as tall as Caine, a steady 1,85m, or may be taller? Would he have dark hair like when he was little? He would be strong, Caine thought, full of energy. Too much energy, he thought lovingly, remembering Peter’s hyperactivity. The Shaolin training had subdued that overflow of energy but it always found a way to manifest its presence, one way or another.

The grieving man would give anything to be able to cook for his son again.

‘Mmm, that was awesome,’ smacked Tom. He took a sip from the tea. ‘And that awesome, too.’

Caine was also pleased to see Tom’s energy back.

‘You know, I shouldn’t spend much more time around you.’

‘Why not,’ asked Caine unaccustomed to jokes.

The young man grinned. ‘I may get used to all this pampering.’

The priest smiled relieved. Tom left his empty plate beside him and vaguely made a sign for his friend to join him. Caine was more than happy to oblige

*****

After a minute of awkward silence Caine spoke first.

‘Do you remember something from yesterday?’

‘Oh, yes…’ Tom halted. ‘Well… Everything up to the point where  _I_  get shot with my own gun… And then  _he_  got shot… by my gun…’

‘You fought?’

‘You can say so. Sometimes I think I’m very tough but such accidents really shake my confidence.’

‘I noticed you did not use your gun at all before that.’

‘Yeah…’ Tom glanced at Caine and noticed his playful look. ‘Must be your bad influence.’

Both men laughed.

‘Nah… I… I don’t depend on my gun this much.’

‘You do not? You… are a cop.’

‘What I mean is I’m not quite the marksman, not every shot hits the target. I mean, I get by…’ He shrugged. ‘Well enough to save my partner’s life if necessary.’

‘…or your own…’

‘Yeah.’ They shared a look of understanding.

‘Sometimes… I wonder why I became a cop. And… The gun, it’s authority, a partner. It’s like a bullet-proof jacket.’

‘For your soul?’

Tom took a defensive position. ‘Excuse me?’

Caine held the young man’s shoulder and continued. ‘You can… find a shelter behind your gun and badge… like you found shelter here. But it is… only temporary. What frightens you is still in there, and… guns cannot help in this case.’

Tom’s eyes opened wider.

‘Your fears will haunt you… until you face and challenge them. And, Tom, you do not need gun to do that. You need only courage.’

Tom felt like an open book, and he had no idea how to close it. Did he know? How could he? Caine had practically red through the darkest secret of his frightened soul, secret that even Cassie knew nothing about.

At last he admitted defeat. ‘I don’t know if I’ll have the heart to do that.’

'If you have the heart to save lives, to save  _my_  life; you have what it takes to save yours, too.’

They looked at each other; the detective had to admit he had never seen so much belief in one’s eyes as he saw in Caine’s. The priest demonstrated such an implicit faith in his abilities that Tom felt he would try flying for this man, if he believed him capable of it. Hence his genuine reply.

‘Thank you!’ He stretched his right arm and Caine grabbed it vigorously. They both had done so much for each other and none yet realised it.

Tom felt warmth and relief filled his being. He didn't remember the last time he had been so much at ease, so safe and comfortable.

‘You know,’ he said and took a sip from his newly filled cup. ‘Over there, at the edge, I was terrified.’

‘I did not mean to scare you.’

‘I know, it’s not just that. I was terrified by myself. It’s scary to know how little you know about others… and about yourself.’

‘What was that frightened you, my friend?’

Tom took that ‘my friend’ as a compliment. ‘Caine… I felt your anguish. You were agonising and… I had a b s o l u t e l y no idea what to do to ease your pain.’

‘Yet, you did.’

‘I’m a cop, Caine. I’ve been trained to… to hunt criminals. If somebody gets killed, my job is to find the killer and at least bring justice to the family of the victim. And that’s it.’

Tom sounded angry.

‘I get the bastard and go home. I don’t know what happens to the devastated parents, or spouses, or siblings…’

‘So… what bothers you, then?’

‘I don’t know how to… take care of people. I know how to shoot, chase, solve crimes. And I know I’m good at it.’ Then he mumbled. ‘I won’t discuss my fighting skills…’

Tom was breathing heavy.

‘Nobody’s there to look after the victims, Caine. Neither social workers nor psychologists do that… Nobody gets paid to hold their hands and be there for them. The system has no such position.’

‘You mean that nobody takes care of the… spiritual side of things.’

‘Yes… sort of.’

‘Well, this is where we Shaolin come into the picture.’ Caine smiled. ‘That is what we do. We help the victims’ souls heal.’

‘…and we do not get paid.’

‘You’re better than cops. Geez, if a cop could kick like that… Man!’

‘Do not undervalue yourself. Yours is a noble and a very dangerous profession. Both cops and Shaolin priests protect. Only you… bring justice, we… bring peace.’

‘You Shaolin are like extension to a cop,’ grinned Tom.

‘You can put it that way,’ smiled Caine. ‘Our… occupations are like two opposite halves of the same thing, like Yin and Yang. We… fill each other.’

‘Each cop should have one Shaolin assigned to him,’ winked Tom.

Caine laughed out loud. The idea was so absurd that he actually imagined it. The two 'professions' were so alike, and yet complete opposites.

‘Man…’ said Tom dreamily, ‘Imagine, a cop and a Shaolin... Now  _that_  would be legendary…’

Caine kept giggling. One could see he was man who didn't laugh often.

‘I... guess...’

Tom lowered his voice. ‘If you ever have way down to Palm Beach, give me a call.’

‘It would be a pleasure,’ answered Caine and kept laughing for a while.

*****

The rest of the day the two men spent talking. Each had much to share and each had enough patience to listen to the other.

Tom was shocked with Caine’s tragic life. He couldn't believe why such a good man had had to bare such tragedies. And he came to admire his strength deeply.

‘I don’t know if I could bear it, Caine…’ he said at one point.

Caine explained that he was taught to take life as it comes, but that of all things it was the loss of his son that was slowly killing him a little every day.

Tom felt immeasurable pain for the older man’s solitude. He relayed to it, vaguely, but he and his pathetic problems weren't even close to everything Caine had had to endure.

‘Everyone’s problems matter, and nothing is too small to be overlooked,’ preached he.

Then the priest spoke of Tom’s problem. ‘You… and your ex-wife, how good friends were you?’

‘Uhm… don’t know, the friendship part… We were married, for Heaven’s sake!’

‘Then that is what was missing, friendship.’

Tom was silent.

‘You have to take time and get to know each other. You… are partners, in every meaning of the word. Get… to know each other, become friends. And then… you may be surprised with the results.

Tom only nodded and took some time to think about it. Friends, that he could do.

The two men didn't do much walking due to Tom’s health. Only towards the late afternoon Caine left for a few hours. He had to check on the prisoners and he also remembered that the gas station Tom was headed for the day before was not this far away. Much to Tom’s relief the priest was back before sunset.

‘Are you feeling unwell?’

‘No, not at all. Guess I got worried being stranded here alone, barely moving…’

‘If you relax, tomorrow you will be… like new?’

Tom smiled wryly. ‘Speaking of tomorrow, did you find someone at the gas station?’

‘It was closed… but I left a message. I suppose help will come… tomorrow?’

‘Yeah, most likely. People take it easy in the countryside.’

'You say it as if it is a bad thing.’

‘N-no…’

It was getting annoying how skilful with words Caine was. And amusing at the same time.

The evening the weird duo spent inside the shelter. The warm stones and Caine’s tea and tasty dinner provided for a cosy feeling Tom had had only when at home. The young man was astonished how easily he opened up to this complete stranger. They spoke of just about anything. The funniest part was Caine’s wisdom confronted with his complete ignorance when it came to modern-day life.

However Tom understood. The priest had sought refuge in a secluded temple after the death of his beloved wife, and it was understood that he was even more reluctant to come back to civilisation after he had lost his son as well. The cop guessed that back in the 60s the priest must have been a fairly ‘normal’ kind of guy.

Caine was surprised how much he enjoyed the company of his young friend. Tom was really intelligent and had cracked some pretty tangled cases. The stories he had to tell weren't any worse than any crime novel, and the priest found himself even more bewildered by his desire to know more about police work. In fifteen years he had been only a witness to what cops do but he had never really gotten to know any of them. He was pleased with the detailed descriptions Detective Ryan gave him and in the end decided that police work was at least as fascinating as it was dangerous.

*****

Tom and Caine prepared for bed well before midnight. Both men were emotionally exhausted after the eventful Sunday. Caine prepared an improvised bed out of his jacket and Tom’s. A thin blanket and the duffel bag were going to provide for cover and pillow. Tom expressed his guilt of invading Caine’s sleeping bag but he quickly quit arguing when semi-jokingly the Shaolin threatened to put him inside that thing with physical power if he had to.

The cop grinned and then slowly left the shelter. Caine thought he had insulted his friend and hurried after him outside. What he found there, however, surpassed all of his expectations.

Tom was standing by the edge of the crescent. He bent with much pain and Caine rushed to help him.

‘I’m fine, I’m fine.’

The priest saw Tom holding a handful of earth. Next thing the young man did was to throw it over the edge.

‘Happy birthday, Peter!’

Caine was amazed and deeply touched.

Tom wrapped an arm around his older friend. ‘I also have strong hearing,’ he said and winked.

Gratefully the priest hugged his young friend, and the two headed inside for well-deserved rest.

After Caine had extinguished the lantern and bid Tom ‘good night’, the younger man spoke.

‘Caine?’

‘Yes?’

‘…You make an incredible father!’

There was no reply. Tom was tactful enough to wait for the light to go off in order to offer his complement. He had been thinking all day about it. He knew he had hit home with his words and when he looked in direction of Caine, was it the bright moonlight outside or his imagination, but he could swear he saw the priest smiling.

It was all Tom had hoped to see.

*******

 

Tom was munching the turkey sandwich the Deputy gave him. He was so relaxed that he gladly let the local PD take care of the mess they had made on Saturday. He noticed Caine’s questioning look.

‘Don’t worry, it’s nothing compared to your food.’

Caine bowed. ‘I was merely admiring how well you recovered.’

‘The paramedics said I won’t need stitches. But I’d be a mess if it wasn’t for you and your grass.’

‘So would I.’

Then Caine waved his index finger. ‘And you remember to have from my… grass as I instructed you.’

Both of them chuckled and the priest didn't miss the opportunity to slap gently Tom’s chin.

It was about 3 pm and both travellers were glad to see somebody else dealing with the consequences from their ordeal.

‘You’re set, Detective,’ said a uniformed man and handed Tom his keys.

‘This means my car is ready.’ Tom’s words sounded almost apologetic.

‘That… is good?’

‘Yeah… I can go back. …It won’t be that bad… right?’

‘No,’ smiled Caine softly. ‘…What will happen to the poachers?’

‘State prison is calling. Turns out they were all on parole.’

‘Such young lives…’

‘Yeah…’ Tom hugged Caine. ‘And I hope that next year things will be better for you, too.’

‘Thank you,’ said Caine and bowed. He stared at Tom for a while.

‘Take care of yourself, Tom Ryan!’

‘You too, Kwai Chang Caine!’

Caine held his fist and palm as a sign of respect. Confused at first, Tom quickly got the hack of it and returned the gesture.

And so the two men parted. One headed south, the other – north. Each went his way, down the roads at the end of which Destiny awaited.

**THE END**

 


End file.
